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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021257">Désolé</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlymilkovich/pseuds/deadlymilkovich'>deadlymilkovich</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gorillaz</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, Making Up, Murdoc Niccals Loves Stuart “2D” Pot, Sober Murdoc Niccals, Stuart “2D” Pot Loves Murdoc Niccals</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:08:28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,043</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23021257</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deadlymilkovich/pseuds/deadlymilkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Murdoc tries out a coping mechanism, and 2-D walks in, feeling bad about his actions</p><p>Based off the music video for Désolé and Murdoc crying making me feel sad</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Murdoc Niccals/Stuart "2D" Pot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>143</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Désolé</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD !! I’ll be fixing as many mistakes as I possibly can, so please comment if you find any so I can revamp the piece and make sure that you, the reader, have a better reading experience</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Murdoc laid down a while longer, letting his body shake quietly as tears fell, leaving him cold.</p><p>When he finally sat up from where he was laying, his shirt pushed up and the pillows grazed his skin, a little line of shock running through his body. He stretched, taking deep breathes as he settled back down. His hands felt clammy, and he rubbed them over his knees, sighing.</p><p>It was still light out, early afternoon he supposed, based off the light coming from the studios patio doors.</p><p>It was a sad feeling, the abandonment he felt. He knew the band probably meant no harm, leaving and all, but in the time he had cried it was all he could think of. Had they truly hated him so much that they had left him?</p><p>He shook the thought, rubbing his temples as he sat, counting his breathes.</p><p>He stood up, making sure to walk around the table instead of bang his legs into it again, rounding into the kitchen. He opened the freezer, pulling out a few ice cubes. He used his foot to close the door behind him, placing the frozen water on the kitchen counter.</p><p>He took paper towels and wrapped the cubes up, holding them in his hands, shifting the weigh on his palms to the first knuckle in his hand. His mind wandered, forming random baselines to songs that would never be made, calm slowly creeping into his body.</p><p>He had his therapist to thank for the ice, a woman he was forced to see by his band mates at the beginning. She was a lovely woman, handing him a list of coping mechanisms to use when alcohol crossed his mind, or when thoughts got too big. Things like knitting, going on small walks, look at the sky for a while, hold some ice. It had helped even on the worst of days, he had admitted to himself.</p><p>He stood there a while longer, letting the ice calm his nerves until the paper wrapped around the cubes was wet, making his fingers prune lightly. He disposed of it in the trash bin, rubbing his hands together comfortably, sighing in content.</p><p>To an extent he was glad he was alone, glad to have the silence, but it wasn’t a fulfilling silence, nothing nice.</p><p>He made his way over to the couch again, sitting down and swinging himself legs over to lay down once more. He got comfortable, pulling pillows up and situating himself out.</p><p>A door opened and closed softly, the click of heels coming down the studios front hallway. Murdoc didn’t bother looking for who it was, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment a while longer.</p><p>2-D stopped when he saw the older man, hands rapidly fiddling with his jackets collar, yellow mascot tie tucked neatly in the front pocket.</p><p>“Murdoc,” The singer says, stepping closer, neck craning to look at the bassist. “Are you... drunk?”</p><p>Murdoc’s heavy laughter filled the room, and 2-D’s shoulders tensed, unsure of the other mans current state.</p><p>“No, Stuart, I’m not drunk,” Murdoc says, looking over at the skyscraper of a man. “See.”</p><p>When Murdoc got drunk his eyes would look dead, red around the sockets, and they would be lazy. They were bright now, clear. It assured 2-D on Murdoc’s sobriety, something he’d been proud of Murdoc for maintaining for so long.</p><p>He made his way over to a coat rack, hanging his navy jacket up on a peg, and fixing the lapels.</p><p>2-D has been more of a neat freak since Murdoc came back from prison, borderline OCD half the time. Nothing was ever out of place, always put back in neat piles or its respectful container. Murdoc couldn’t leave a magazine out for a few minutes without it getting returned to the pile in the middle of the coffee table on most days, but he never minded.</p><p>It was almost comical that 2-D’s room was wreck then, he supposed. The younger man had clothes thrown everywhere, bottles of water from moths before laid on dressers and bedside tables, occasional bowls of food from past dinners on the floor. He’d told the band it was just easier to find things that way for him, and no one had blinked an eye.</p><p>Murdoc himself had once deep cleaned the room in favor of downing a bottle and a half of jack, and it had made 2-D angrier than a middle aged mother until he knew the reasoning behind it. Since then he never protested the possibility of Murdoc’s cleaning, rather welcoming it happily.</p><p>2-D sat down by Murdoc’s feet, hands folding in his lap. Murdoc watched him fiddle for a second, thinking. Their eyes met and 2-D took a quiet breath before speaking.</p><p>“I’m sorry.” He whispered, black eyes trained on grey, his mouth pulled tight.</p><p>Murdoc believes he could forgive 2-D, knowing the younger wouldn’t have, nor intended to hurt him in the first place. The lonely feeling wasn’t his fault, he knew that, but he still felt sore over the incident.</p><p>In the end, Murdoc decided the event wouldn’t bother him in a few years time, and therefore, it wasn’t worth worrying over.</p><p>He smiled over at 2-D, raising his eyebrows. “You’re forgiven.”</p><p>2-D’s own smile came out, messy teeth and all. It made Murdoc feel warm, seeing the singer smile so big, and because of him none the less.</p><p>2-D pushed Murdoc’s feet up, scooting into the empty space and pulling his own legs up into his chest. They faced each other, and silence fell over them once more.</p><p>Murdoc reaches out for 2-D’s hand, grabbing it and holding onto it softly. his nails left white lines on the pale flesh, and he felt blunt nails and fingers rub against his wrist in return.</p><p>Murdoc lifted the hand to lips, kissing the palm and smiling, feeling 2-D’s fingers turn and curl into his hair, scraping at his scalp in a soothing motion.</p><p>All was forgiven, Murdoc told himself. He and 2-D were okay, and they always would be.</p><p>“I love you.” Murdoc mutters, leaning into the touches from the taller man opposite him. 2-D hummed, leaning down to kiss the top of Murdoc’s head.</p><p>“I love you too, Muds.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for reading ! If I’ve made any mistakes in my writing please notify me so I can change it</p><p>Constructive criticism is always appreciated</p></blockquote></div></div>
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